We were looking at the time before

We were looking at the time before. When we were not yet made for each other. Only shadows of our hands drifting from the shadows of the shadows. We were index of the time in an external memory that speaks in indecipherable keys. We were a giant morning of stone and ice crushed like incessant walls located between the immensity of the interspersed strings, without touching. In that labyrinth of silence lost, although close, without seeing each other, shouting for glances calling us, ignoring that we were there.

Sense, then ex-isto as a hypo/thesis.